December 1st, 1947, in a rural village along the Severn River in England, Aleister Crowley lay amidst a pile of hay in a dilapidated shack. His breathing was heavy, his entire body stained red with blood, resembling a broken doll.
Life was fading from his body; death was approaching. He wouldn't have much time left.
“Such a sight. It seems I failed after all… this is the price I must pay for killing my own child.”
Aleister lay sprawled out, unconsciously reliving the past thirty years of his life.
In 1919, Aleister was hiding in Egypt, laying the foundation for his plan. But he never expected to encounter a stranger within the 'Imaginary Phase.' He suspected that the stranger had deciphered the 'Book of the Law,' which enabled them to find the Imaginary Phase where he was hiding. Without hesitation, Aleister employed his strongest spell, designed to destroy a 'demon god,' unleashing a power equivalent to ten times the energy of a Big Bang, to kill the stranger.
Aleister had succeeded. He was the greatest magician of the 20th century, capable of confronting a 'demon god' as a mere human. But Aleister had also failed, for he had not slain an 'enemy,' but his own son, a being he considered family, carrying his blood.
The moment he saw the stranger's true form, Aleister had no doubt. From their shared genetics, the flow of blood, and the resonance of magic and souls, he knew this was his child, born to him by one of his countless lovers.
At that moment, Aleister completely lost his mind. He abandoned his humanity, his newfound plan, and without a second thought, left Egypt and returned to England, a land that held immense danger for him, to fulfill his last duty as a father, to find the child he had mistakenly killed.
He knew what he was facing. The persecution of every magician in the world. For him, the 'Greatest Heretic,' who dared to seek the destruction of magic, possessing the power to achieve it, no one with magical power would ever spare him.
Among those pursuing him, the English Puritans were the most relentless and desperate. Aleister was strong, but he was ultimately human. From 1919 to 1947, Aleister had fought against magicians across the world for twenty-eight years. Just yesterday, Aleister, exhausted, was finally caught by the English Puritan's assassination squad and gravely injured in this English countryside.
“… This truly fits my fate.”
Aleister felt no sorrow or despair. All his despair had been consumed twenty-eight years ago when he killed his child. He knew what his life was like. It was a constant battle against failure and setbacks. But failure and setbacks could never defeat Aleister.
Neither a demon god capable of twisting and destroying everything, nor a path too difficult to traverse, nor any desperate situation could conquer this formidable man. The only thing that could defeat Aleister was his family!
“Click…”
The door to the rural hay hut creaked open. Aleister listened to the approaching footsteps outside. Even in the face of death, he remained calm, even making a lighthearted joke. “Who is the lucky one who found me? The English Puritans? The Roman Catholic Church? The Russian Orthodox Church? Or perhaps some magical society? I guess the English Puritans are most likely.”
“… Take my head and claim your reward. I suppose my head is quite valuable in this world.”
The person who entered did not speak, as if attempting to instill fear in Aleister with the oppressive silence.
Finally, Aleister saw the visitor –
“Frog?”
Aleister was astonished to see an old man with a frog-like face standing before him. The man wore black-rimmed glasses and had a slightly chubby physique, but Aleister had never seen him before. This old man seemed unlike the magicians who had been chasing him.
“How rude to call someone 'frog' upon meeting them. Such a lack of manners.”
The old man grumbled with displeasure, then approached Aleister, examining him seriously. “… Such severe injuries. If you had arrived a moment later, you would have been gone.”
“Who are you?”
Aleister was now as frail as a newborn. He had little to no caution facing this man who could take his life at any moment. He asked calmly.
“Who am I?”
The old man muttered. He turned to look at the Severn River not far from the hay hut, as if seeing the flowing waters of the Jiangnan region and the fearless friend who, a hundred years ago, at Humen, had boldly confronted the authorities and bravely burned the opium that had broken the nation's back while reciting poetry and laughing.
He shook his head and smiled, “ … I no longer use my past name. If you wish, call me Soulchaser.”
“Soulchaser?”
What a boastful name. But Aleister didn't laugh.
“That’s right. Time is short. You should keep quiet. I need to save your life right now.”
The old man, Soulchaser, squatted down and prepared to begin emergency treatment.
“My body is beyond saving. No magic can cure me.”
Aleister continued calmly. He knew his condition well.
“If magic won't work, then use science!”
Soulchaser retorted nonchalantly.
“Science…”
Aleister looked at the old man he had encountered by chance. His once dull eyes regained their brightness.
He certainly didn't want to die. Not out of fear of death, but because he hadn't yet achieved his purpose, fulfilled his desire.
For Aleister, even death was merely one of his setbacks. It was never a reason to give up.
“Do you know who you're saving?”
“I don't care who you are. I only know you're a patient in urgent need of surgery. And whatever happens, I will never abandon my patients!”
Soulchaser spoke with unwavering resolve and a fierce determination.
“Such an overly kind and peculiar fellow…”
Aleister paused for a moment, then continued, “… I have too many enemies in England. I can't stay here.”
“Let me think… how about Japan? Japan just lost the war. That land is desperately in need of everything. The environment there will surely accommodate you.”
Soulchaser thought for a moment, then pointed Aleister toward a path.
With Soulchaser's help and treatment, Aleister survived and was transferred to Japan.
In the magical world, Aleister Crowley, the evil and fearsome magician, was believed to have died in the English countryside on December 1st, 1947.
In 1950, the Academy City was established –
…
In the darkness, Roy suddenly opened his eyes.